I awoke to rain splashing on my window, and cold snowcapped mountains.
Huge fluffy clouds filled the sky.
I was busy most of the day, and decided to relax at the fire when afternoon rolled around.
Just as I almost kicked off my shoes, something beckoned me outside.
The sun was calling my name, the days of rain had stopped.
The last sliver of golden hour illuminated the garden on a frigid afternoon.
There would be a freeze at night, and so I decided to cut some winter roses.
I stood there in the cold air, drinking in the stunning last light, on this first day of a new year.
I decided then and there, to go grab my camera and share it with you.
I spent a huge part of 2021 just wrapping myself in white light, in my mind.
So, this seemed like a reminder to continue doing that in the new year.
I ran up to the secret garden, and there was that light again.
Bursting through the lemon tree.
The first day of a new year in my wintery garden, the light shining through leaves, making me feel safe with its wonderful familiarity.
I just stood there listening to a mockingbird.
Then I heard the little gobbles and clucking sounds of the quail, as they inched towards the fence, preparing to jump into my trees for the cold evening.
I love that they sleep in my trees and feel safe here.
I'm so glad I went outside for the first golden hour of the year.
The morning glory arbor is sure to have had its last lingering flowers today.
With the freeze, it will now go to sleep, until maybe spring/summer - if it successfully self-seeds.
I took out all my little greenhouse planter covers, perhaps that will help the basil and tomatoes hold on.
There are so many little green globes hanging out there still.
We'll see.
You never know what delights spring will bring.
I did go ahead and take a few of the tattered winter roses.
What a treat to have roses in January.
I also picked some bougainvillea.
The magical golden hour light fluttered around, as though infused with some sort of fairy magic.
When I came back inside it was dark, so I lit some candles.
I often hang roses to dry on lamps and candelabras, then they just stay there because I love to see them hanging around so much.
And so, it is sort of a farewell party for the last winter roses.
But they will be back in a few short months.
As I was blowing out the candles, the smoke wafted around in the chilly air so mysteriously.
It made for a very interesting feeling as a beginning to a new year.
I was immediately filled with a sort of fairytale dreams moment.
Beckoned by the books in my little library, feeling very young again, and filled with wonder.
I thought, this is the perfect setting to the beginning of a tale.
Speaking of tales!
Did I ever tell you about the secret library in the first house I lived in as a child?
I lived in that house until I was 8 years old, and I feel that the library in it had a profound effect on me.
You see, my parents purchased this red brick house with white gingerbread details when I was a baby.
It was situated on the only hill in the neighborhood.
I had a white and red playhouse out back, with a swing set next to it, and big lawns, with huge fences filled with honeysuckle.
I also had a duck and a goose, and violets filled the garden beds.
We once had a cat who chose us, for a short period, which I shall tell you about another time.
But down a couple stairs in the back of the house was this large room with very tall floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
And yes, all the books as well.
Imagine purchasing a home that came with a fully stocked library?
How fascinating would that be?
What I would give to go back in time and look through all those old books.
The books had beautiful old spines and intrigued me greatly.
I remember looking through the books as a child and having a bit of fear towards some of them.
Or maybe it was the fact that I had climbed the bookshelves once and had to be rescued from the top?
But in all honesty, some of the books were downright creepy.
One of the books I looked at a lot was all black with gold details and red edged pages.
I remember very distinctly that the spine said, The Devil's Daughter.
Every time I saw it, I would get chills.
There were a lot of strange books indeed, and once I heard my mom in a scary whispering tone, telling her friend that she had found weird things in the house.
She told the woman that one book was so scary, that she threw it way up to the top shelf, and it fell behind the bookcases.
I wonder what it was about, I must ask her again.
There was a fireplace in the room, and I also overheard my mom saying that she found this huge box of a sort of antique parchment, and when she opened it, it took up the entire room, and was labeled with where to sit to find your evil hour and such.
My mom got so scared, she lit the fireplace in the summer, and burned it.
Now, I never had any bad experiences in the house, and I adored my Holly Hobby wallpaper, bedding, pillows and towels, haha!
It was a fun neighborhood filled with kids, and the Shamrock ice-cream truck man lived on our street, and he would sell us ice cream with a little wooden spoon for 5 cents.
Just the library had some fun and creepy aspects, but mostly fun.
My mom always misses that house.
The funny thing is, I grew up with so many tales - mysterious, scary, fascinating, magical.
Some I'd hear the adults telling each other, and others my grandmother told me.
Oh, the stories she would tell me my entire life, I can't even begin to tell you.
Fascinating to my child mind!
Today I spoke to her, as it is her birthday on New Year's day, and we talked about some of the fairytales she told me as a child.
I recently sent her a copy of the story she told me often as a child, which was the tale of the boys turned into swans.
She had this huge Fairytale book, of course she told them all from memory.
But I remember sitting with her in this huge cushioned floral velvet upholstered rocking chair, and paging through this big beautiful old book.
I keep the swan book (several different copies actually) around my house and think about her every time I see the books, which is daily.
I told her that today, and she loved that thought.
The point is, between all the tales she told me, and the library of curious books I grew up with...
It would only make sense that I am enamored by old books and that I am always one second away from something inspiring me to light a lamp in a dark cozy corner and read some mysterious tale.
You can't imagine the scary stories my grandma told me as well.
My knees would knock under the table, but I couldn't get enough, I'd ask for more and more.
Her well of stories is endless, and who better to hear tales from than your own grandma?
I can't ask for a better way to enter a new year.
With chats with my grandma, golden hour light, and maybe a secret or two that I want to share with you soon.
Oh and, I also enjoyed the snowy mountains at the country house today, made two berry crisps, watched Matty try to chase rabbits (don't worry, he never catches them), and froze in the tattered winter garden, loving every minute of it.
And now, I will cuddle Matty by the fire, drink my decaf green tea and page through the stack of garden catalogs that have arrived.
I am trying to get used to the fact that Halloween begins in July, Christmas begins on October 31st, and spring begins on January 1st.
Haha!
It does feel that way though, doesn't it?
I awoke this morning to endless garden pictures on Instagram, which of course, I would never complain about, but it did make me giggle.
I will say though, the garden gives hope.
Planning the spring garden in winter is a very fun thing to do.
That, and crocheting until you can't keep your eyes open.
My crochet projects go to bed with me at night.
Well, I have talked and talked, and now I must be off.
Happy New Year!
I hope it brings many old wonderful tales tucked in old book pages.
How I love that scent!
See you soon my friends!
Oh and, this blog began at the very end of December in 2006.
Can you imagine that?
16 years, wow.
Thanks for A Fanciful Twist, and how it found me - came to me in a daydream at a coffee shop.
And led me here, to meet with you for 16 whole years, crazy!
Thank you for being here.
Love, Vanessa
